An Interview With Jerry Dandridge
by GaGa4FrightNight
Summary: College student, known to net friends as Welcum2FrightNight4Real discovers that fiction is sometimes based from reality. Stalked online by a man claiming he is the vampire Jerry Dandridge was based from she cracks and agrees to meet with said vampire. Take this little journey from fiction to non-fiction and see what the real J.D. is like.


An Interview With Jerry Dandridge

More Craziness

By

~GaGa4FrightNight~

_(Author)_

_Okay, here I go again! I wanted to do something different…fiction but nonfiction at the same time and with me involved. Yep, gonna throw myself into some Fright Night business because I believe I've earned it. Now, it's fiction because we have Jerry Dandridge who we all better know came from the combined imaginations of Tom Holland and Chris Saranadon; if you think otherwise then you need more help than I do! And for the nonfiction; yep, you guessed it… I'm the nonfiction part because I am real, blood and guts and all! Well, the rest of the fiction is purely from my imagination…Shall we? Yes, I believe we shall see what happens if Jerry Dandridge was truly based of a true and real life 'living and breathing' vampire and I get the honors of probing this immortal brain in a private interview with a creature of darkness… Ah, oh, who's in more trouble me or him? *thinks* Well, I would seriously have to behave myself because I do have a hubby and for the vampire? Maybe he would be nice…. O.O_

_Loves & Kisses,_

_~Gaga4FrightNight~ _

It's just all too exciting! After all these thirty damned years I discover a darker truth behind my all time favorite movie, yeah, you guessed right, Fright Night, peoples! As you know, I've been doing a crap load of Fright Night fan fiction, such an obsessive passion of mine. Well, I never once thought that my work would manage to find a way and reach out to something unexpected. Yeah, I say 'something' because it is something, not someone, a something. I don't know, maybe that something might get offended because I use the words 'it' or 'something'. How else am I supposed describe…well…okay… him? Okay, to the point at hand. Well, after filling page after page of Fright Night fiction I received this really weird private message from a reader from the site. Okay, my first reaction was, someone has some serious mental issues. So, I simply replied to the message by telling the person to piss off and get a mental checkup! Well, this person was truly offended by my, by his words, 'rudeness' and stated that I needed to take his messages seriously.

What was I to think? I got some nut-bar sending me private messages trying to convince me that the vampire stud I've been writing about actually existed and claimed that he was that particular vampire. All I could do was roll my eyeballs. But what if this person was seriously disturbed and might do some research then stalk me? What if they hated what I wrote and felt I offended their very being, claiming to be this delicious vampire? I had to play it safe, be a bit more cautious with my responses. So, I was truly careful with my next response to a message from this 'vampire'. So, I went along with it; flowed with it; took the ride. I asked this 'vampire' what they truly wanted from me; I was a nobody, just a housewife spending her time at the computer writing pure Fright Night fan fiction and driving her daughter and hubby mad with my persistent Fright Night babbles. I was surprised by the response I got; somewhat flattered by this fruitcake vampire wannabe.

It was an intricate response, well written, and quite impressive to how detailed this 'vampire' had read what I've written. This person said I wrote 'him' quite well. He readily praised my little Fright Night Twist where 'he' had a happy ending unlike the movie portrayed. He went on to explain how he loved all the fan fiction dedicated to 'his' story which obviously ended incorrectly. Well, I was bombarded with a millions questions thrown into my head. This crazy shit was pretty damned interesting and got me wanting ask questions. So, I sent a message back with a few questions, curious to how he would respond to them and, again, he surprised me by stating that perhaps I should personally ask him those questions face to face. Okay that scared the hell outta me! There was no way in hell I was gonna go meet up with some person who most likely was some kinda loony! That was just insane to suggest! Well, I just wrote back and said it was impossible and inappropriate; just totally outta the question! Well, he responded that either I met up with him or he would meet up with me. Okay, yep, I was freaking terrified by this time. Did the fucker just threaten me? Oh, I wrote him back and told him to go fuck himself because no one threatened me with their lunacy! Told him to go have himself locked up in the nearest mental ward or go stand in the sunlight and go 'Poof' if he truly was that said vampire! Yeah, didn't quite go well after that.

I had reported to the site about the scary harassment but before they could stop him, he stopped himself by deleting his account; smart ass. Well, I thought that was the end now that he was no longer apart of the site. Boy was I wrong. To my surprise this crazy person did a whole 'Cat Fish' on my ass and used my profile pic from the site to find its match which led the sicko straight to my personal page on another particular site. Do you know how many Jerry Dandridge's are? A shit load that use the image of the character from Fright Night. Using one of these supposedly fake profiles dedicated to said character the whack job started sending me freaking messages again. I was getting pretty miffed… Not once did I accept the freak's friend request which didn't stop him from messaging me. So, I blocked his ass. Damn straight! Well, damn it all somehow this weirdo got hold of my freaking email address. So, I started getting these damned emails. What was worse, I didn't only get emails; I got damned pics with them. Well, I think they were pics of him but he was never in them; vampires don't photograph I guess. He must have read my Jacked story; I guessed.

Well, I've changed my email too many times already and wasn't about go changing the bitch again! What was I going to do? I didn't know where this person lived. He could be a she for all I knew; saw some whacked chicks proclaiming love and devotion to the character and the actor who portrayed him. Hell, I told my hubby about and he tried his best to figure out a way to end this craziness but he hit the same dead end that I had. This thing kept changing email after email but continued harassing me to have some kind of meeting. He claimed he just wanted to explain the truth to me. Explain what? I already knew he was off his rocker; what else could he possibly need to explain? He stated that I showed so much respect for 'him' that he thought I would appreciate a little more insight about the whole Fright Night story. Well, I just said that if the story was about him, he wouldn't be harassing me because he would be dead since Jerry Dandridge was burnt to a crispy critter at the end. Oh, he had a comeback; said that it was wrong and that Fright Night completely distorted the truth. I don't know how many times I slammed my head against my computer desk but it was enough times to jar me into giving into this unbelievable request. Sure, it's a huge risk but these days and times you can dial 911 and get some serious back up. Maybe I induced some kinda concussion. Maybe he drove me nuts. I don't know but I was prompted to agree to something seriously fucked up beyond, even, my imagination standards. I agreed to meet with the true and real Jerry Dandridge!

Okay, I didn't tell the hubby. If I went and told him he woulda stopped me from being a complete moron. It was only me who was gonna get to the bottom of this insanity. I made the arrangements and to my shock and possibly horror, this coo-coo person claimed he was the one who purchased the old mansion a block or so from me. I was in disbelief, no way! If he had then what was the point of stalking me on the net? He coulda just come knocking! It was making no sense. Maybe someone was playing a sick joke on my weakness for Fright Night. I don't know what I was thinking but I went along for this fucked up spook house ride!

It was football season so hubby took our brat and her boyfriend the local team's games. I contacted this said Jerry Dandridge and informed him that Friday night would be the best time; I had a few hours to spend with a lunatic. Well, a time was decided with the place being the redone mansion I have always been fascinated with. The family was leaving around six to head to the game which meant I had until then to nine to get to the bottom of the barrel of crazy monkeys. The moment the family left, of course they understood that I didn't enjoy football, so they left believing I was just gonna sit at the computer composing another rendition of some more Fright Night fan fiction. Well, they were wrong. I got dressed in the appropriate interview attire; appropriate for GaGa4FrightNight. Yep, I went all out. Gotta look my best and cheapest meeting a vampire but not just any vampire; Jerry Dandridge. The same outfit I've planned on wearing to meet actor Chris Sarandon; my daughter claimed she was gonna act like I'm not her mother; shit head. I knew one thing, I was gonna be really pissed if I walk that block or so in my black hooker boots looking like a hooker from the 80s and go knocking to discover no one home or some short balding dude wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and socks up to his kneecaps! I wanted to be impressed; to see that someone could put some effort into making them at least look similar to the Jerry Dandridge! I really didn't know what to expect. Yeah, I was scared but I had my handy cell phone and a bottle of my daughter's stinky perfume to use as pepper spray; gotta improvise!

I got ready, did my hair, and put on some black eyeliner that belonged to my sixteen year old. I even borrowed my kid's black fishnets from last Halloween; really, I had this 80s hooker thing down! I slipped on those fishnets, pulled on my red and black plaid school girl mini, and my 80s cut and styled t-shirt my hubby made for me when the remake was released; Jerry Dandridge on the front over my boobs having Collin Farrell by the throat and on the back the infamous line spoke by Jerry Dandridge, 'Welcome to Fright Night…For real!'. And last but not least the finishing touches to my hooker-ish outfit of choice; my black high heeled hooker boots, took me a long time to practice walking in those things, and headband bow as a nod to Amy from Fright Night. Took me a long time to practice walking in those things!

After packing up my laptop; gonna write this shit down as soon as possible; I stepped out my front door looking like a 80s version of a lady of the night. I prayed that no one pulls up asking how much! I managed down the front porch steps and stepped onto the driveway. It was a decent fall evening; typical for South not having gotten too chilly yet. Well, onto the road I stepped hearing the clacking of my hooker boots. The funeral home across the street was dead; kinda hoped there woulda been a funeral going on because the mansion was directly on the other side of the fence. I knew some about the old mansion; saw it when it was all run down and neglected. I thought it was a beautiful old place smack dab in the middle of the modest little town. The place was purchased for a whopping 1.2 million which was impressive that some nut job managed to buy it. Well, I got me a rich loony! Woot-Woot for me!

It was no time that arrived at the roundabout driveway that curved up a hill spread out in front of the two story mansion. It was truly a lovely place; got them old Southern style pillars out front holding up a balcony and the entire structure was made of brick. I proceeded up the slanted driveway; damned boots gave me a fit trekking up the darn thing. It had been several years since I was even that close to the old place. I took the time to admire its looming creepiness. Yep, at night this beautiful place looked like the perfect specimen for a vampire's lair. In fact, I wrote as one in my own book that had nothing to do with Fright Night; yep, not everything I write is Fright Night related. I reached the top of the little hill; still the place looked kinda creepy. The large porch's light was on, illuminated the white pillars and black front door. I always wanted to go inside the place but never had the balls to go bugging the new owner with such a weird request. It is a historical place; been there for decades upon decades.

Well, I marched my hooker boots up the front steps then stepped to the black door. I was nervous as hell. What the hell was I doing? Had I completely lost my mind? Was I stepping into the lair of, not a vampire, but an escaped mental patient? Was this person possibly convinced that they were Jerry Dandridge? Would he try to eat me? Wow, now I start thinking of certain logical concerns! I never said I was smart!

I took a deep breath then jammed the tip of my index finger against the doorbell button. I held it there, just held it there hearing the doorbell chiming like a bitch from inside. I grinned, that was funny and I knew it would annoy the hell outta anyone. Again, I never said I was smart. I stood there, finger seemingly stuck to the doorbell. Then the door finally opened and I swiftly pulled my finger from the doorbell and planted a huge smile on my face. Nope, wasn't me, the doorbell just got stuck! Okay, I was quickly taken aback. Here in front of me was a chick. I knew it was too good to be true. Great, I got me a chick who thinks she's a male vampire! What the hell was I gonna do now? Maybe she got confused; thinks she the Jerry from the remake's stupid sequel, Fright Night 2: New Blood; ain't watched it and ain't gonna watch it either! I had to say something. "Um," my brain was working on low gear at that point, "I'm, well, GaGa4FrightNight." I watched this chick with sandy blond hair, about a foot taller than me, smile.

"Oh, yes," this chick finally spoke then offered her hand, "I'm…" she paused, "Oh, yeah; I guess you can say I'm Billy Cole." Okay, I was wrong; she's a crazy chick hanging out with a crazy guy.

"Hm-kay," I responded, definitely didn't sound convinced of anything then I again smiled and willingly shook the woman's hand. Then she stepped aside opening the door wider. "Come on in." I listened to her say as my eyes focused on the interior of the house I have always wanted to see; a stretch of hardwood stairs reached up to the second floor. I spied through the windows before; knew there an identical set of stairs at the back of the house. I took a breath, gave a 'thank you' nod and stepped across the threshold into the unknown world of crazy people. I used always pride myself on being one of the many loonies out there but this surpassed my craziness by a ton load. The door closed behind me; there's no turning back now. I stood there staring up the stairs in front of me, tapping my hands against the side of my thighs. Yep, here I was, and, yep, there she was standing there smiling at me. I continued to smile while just nodding my head stupidly; I had no idea what to say. Where's Jer? Where's this psychopath that wouldn't leave me alone? Should I dial 911 ahead of time? Wow, this house is freaking amazing!

"So," I finally spoke up, the silence really uncomfortable.

"Oh, he'll be down shortly." That supposed Billy Cole person stated still standing there smiling at me. Well, I definitely see the creepiness I got from the character in the movie. Sure, the perfect female version of a weirdo who was Jerry Dandridge's day bitch. I smiled; I love calling him a day bitch because that's what he was. And apparently I was staring at the true life female version of that said day bitch. Huh, I wondered how far this whole thing was gonna go. How far were these folks willing to go to play their roles? I hoped and prayed they wouldn't go as far as me being on the news announced as a headless corpse being found in a dumpster behind the local plaza. Yeah, I was really kicking myself in the metaphorical ass.

So, I stood there like some middle aged weirdo dressed like I was in my mid-life crisis. I teetered back and forth on the heels of my hooker boots still tapping my hands on my thighs. Yep, really interesting house; it was restored pretty damned good. Nice original wood floors. The original architecture, crown moldings; they did an excellent job. Well, if they weren't immortals they surely put some serious love into the old place. I wondered if it was haunted like some local folks claimed. Wow, at least there might be some ghost hunting if everything else goes bust. I again looked to the weirdly smiling person to my left. "So," I again broke the creepy silence, "Been here long?"

"Not really," Billy the chick responded, "A few months or so."

"Awe," I nodded, "So, you check out the Mill?"

"No, we normally don't go to things like that." She eagerly responded; a bit more talkative than the Billy I knew from the movie, "He doesn't do public places."

I kept nodding, "Yeah, I bet." I wanted to smirk then laugh; yeah sure, Jerry Dandridge sure made a splash in the movie when he went all public at that Club Radio. I cleared my throat, "So, I take it y'all didn't do any of this." I waved my hand gesturing to the redone house.

"No, not all of it." She again was eager to share, "But we've started a few restoration projects."

"So, you two like some sorta flippers?" I asked, the conversation going into a normal direction, "Like buy places, fix 'em up then sell 'em?"

"Yes, something pretty close to that." She nodded in agreement with herself.

"Okay," I continued my idiotic nodding, "So, have you read my stuff?"

For the first time this woman's smile dwindled. Okay, she didn't like what I wrote about Billy Cole. "Yes, I have." She said with a droll tone; yep, she disapproved of what I wrote.

"Hey," I spoke up knowing she was offended, "I just write what I got from the movie; nothing personal."

"Everything is a bit personal," I heard this man's voice sound from up the stairs, "When it comes to that movie." Okay, I really became nervous; this was the moment I dreaded and anticipated since we agreed to do that little meeting. The voice sounded just like, well, Chris Sarandon's from Fright Night. What a great impersonator; I thought to myself. I dared myself and went ahead and dragged my eyeballs up the height of the staircase in front of me. Okay, something remotely wrong and virtually impossible! I was totally amazed I didn't piss my grundies or shit them! My eyeballs blinked and each time it was the same damned thing I saw. I shook my head. Had I gone to hell or heaven? Was I dead and this was my personal hell or heaven? Had I gotten hit by truck on my walk over here? What the fuck was happening?! That's all that blurted through my head! WHO THE FUCK WAS THIS GUY?! Yep, that screamed in my head so loudly I thought my head was gonna explode. It couldn't be. It can't be! There's no way in hell! Holy suck my imaginary penis, I was looking at the perfect replica of the infamous critter from Fright Night. This asshole looked just like Chris Sarandon from 1985! He must've went through some serious plastic surgery because this bastard was a dead assed ringer! Again I shook my head and blinked my eyes. I suddenly felt a tad wobbly on my hooker heels.

"Are you okay?" that Billy chick quickly asked reaching out for me before I went twisting my ankles on those damned high heels.

My arms went out and I balanced myself. Oh my god! Oh my good Lord! I was just struck with a shit load of bricks that were stacking inside my head like Tetris. One piece went there and the others went here. Holy hell, I was freaking speechless for the first time in my life. Who made this elaborate hoax and hired Chris Sarandon or his look alike to fuck with me? That's what I imagined. Everyone I knew musta got fed up with my whole Fright Night obsession and now was paying me back by dangling a very tasty treat in front of my face! Oh, my hubby knew that Fright Night was and always will be my personal porno. Chris Sarandon was a fine piece of something-something in that movie and for much of my teen years I drooled over him every time I watched Fright Night which was quite often. Who would be stupid or smart enough to come up with such an elaborate and expensive con? Who? My family was dirt poor! I had no idea what was going on! My heart was about to go leaping outta my chest and go squish at the soles of that thing's feet! Oh, yeah, thing because I had no clue what to refer to him as. I had no clue what the fuck I was looking at. I brought my fingertips and pressed them against my temples as if trying to keep myself perfectly still while trying to descramble my brain.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" I heard that smooth as freaking peanut butter voice again speak; just wanted to stick to the roof of my dry mouth. Hell no I didn't believe him. Who in their right mind would? It was an insane concept. I still didn't believe he was Jerry Dandridge. Damn I shoulda thought about this and made one hell of tale. I heard him begin down the stairs. Holy shit, he's doing the whole grand entrance thing like on Fright Night. I strangely giggled and forced myself to watch. It was like the movie; his stroll down the stairs was pure magic. Oh, yep, and I wasn't blind neither! He did wear boxers…I knew it! I felt like a teenage girl meeting her teen idol, teen stud muffin. Well, I was, so it seemed. Oh, I had him in my locker looking all vampire ugly just before he went buh-bye! I wanted his autograph even if it were an elaborate hoax. Sign my boob, please! Yeah, my boob then I'd run down to the near tattoo place and have it permanently inked into my tit! Oh, glory days! I gots me a Jerry Dandridge look alike or wannabe or something along those damned blurry lines!

By the time he reached the bottom of the staircase I was already bouncing with excitement; damn I wish I still had those double D's I had a few years back because that would be one huge signature! It was definitely as if I were actually meeting Chris Sarandon but him from like thirty years ago when he entered my fantasies as Jerry Dandridge. A little girl just noticing boys and that dirty man was what started me favoring the older guys. Sure I was terrified the first time I watched the movie but my terror transitioned into an obsession that would follow me until that very day as an adult, wife, and mother. Oh, I'm really gonna drive the family bonkers now! I can just picture it…they are gonna hate this person in front of me! GaGa4FrightNight was truly going gaga! Damn would I get that excited when I met Chris Sarandon? Hell I already planned on having my picture taken on his lap. Oh my God, what would my hubby think? Oh, I had to behave. I stopped my anxious bouncing and straightened my posture. Yes, no more giddy teenaged flashbacks. I'm a mature woman in her thirties. I'm a wife to a handsome and damned sweet man. I'm a damned good mother of a pink haired daughter with facial piercings; she earned those for being a damned good kid! Gotta be representing, here! No more drooling. No more girlish giggles. No more checking him out! Wait, I ain't blind! I can look but don't touch! I made an agreement right then and there. Look but no touchy!

I simply held my posture and composure though I could feel my teenage angst trying to creep her dirty head out. With my hands I gestured for that creeper teen to stay far, far down. I can do this; I told myself. I took a breath then reached out my hand; gotta be professional. Oh, please, God, don't let him do it! Yeah, you Fright Night ladies know what I'm talking about! "GaGa4FrightNight," I introduced myself though he knew my true identity but that's what I'm sorta known for. He took my hand; I felt weak in the knees which I quickly locked together. Damn my knees are knobby now. Oh, shit! Why, Lord, why?! My eyes were wide with shock and 'holy shit' because this stunning fucker did it! He had to go and pull out no stops and dove right in to make this situation even harder for me! Yep, lips I once daydreamed about touched the back of my hand. I'm sure the expression on my face made me look constipated. I was trying not to go into an all out screaming fit of excitement. He looked at me with those damned eyeballs; identical eyeballs that belonged to mister tall dark and handsome who sleeps in late and prefers his drinks straight from the jugular! And the line! I squeezed my eyes closed as if in pain. Don't say the line; I screamed in my head. God damn him! "Charmed," that word just oozed out his mouth as if it were meant to be said by him. Well, it was, really!

My face just distorted into a sour fit of holding my damned tongue then I jerked my hand outta his. Again, I composed myself. I always considered myself a logical person who believed in the paranormal, ghosts and all that jazz but never once did I believe in vampires. This guy was no vampire because no vampire in his right mind would go stalking some nobody writer just to confide in that nobody all his secrets. I was terrified of werewolves but didn't believe in them. I believe I'd get eaten by the great white north's wolves before I'd be eaten by a hairy half man and half wolf creature. I sure and hell don't believe I would be eaten by a vampire neither!

I took a deep breath, slowly exhaled. I again opened my eyes and looked at that glorious face that, in the past, has been known to get me all…well…Yes, he was a looker. Definitely easy on the freaking wide eyeballs. My blue eyes were taking in every damned sexy detail of the face before them. It was definitely a Chris Sarandon face from the 80s. The same complexion, shape, eyes, nose, distinctive lines, and them lips. I could feel my face sorta strangely making weird faces as I burned those identical features into my mushy brain. Hell, he even had the damned hair down pact; perfectly styled ebony waves that my fingers wanted to reach out and use a pair of scissors to snip a lock or two. "Okay," I finally managed to speak; my throat was dry but my mouth could almost slobber, "So, you got the look." I wasn't gonna give in that easily. Nope, he wasn't who says he was. Not possible! Nope, he's just some cray-cray who has gone to some real lengths to make himself look like who said he was.

"Hmm," he hummed; them lips, "I thought for sure once you saw me that you would be convinced."

I lifted my hand with an erect index finger, "It takes more than that," I pointed at him, "To convince this." I pointed at myself. I'm sure I sounded stupid. Again, I never said I wasn't. "You gotta do better than this." I again pointed at him; damn he was fine!

"And I suppose you still assume I'm crazy." He said crossing his arms over his stylishly covered chest.

I looked to Billy the chick then back to him and gave a sharp nod.

"So, what do I have to do to convince you otherwise?" he asked with that curious perk across his well groomed brows.

I planted a hand firmly on my bony hip and puckered my lips with thought. I opened my mouth and said, "I…don't know." I really didn't know. I mean if he really wanted to prove himself not whacky there was one way but I didn't want that. I didn't want to actually see him sprout fangs and ruin Fright Night for me. I wanted to continue loving that movie.

"Well, perhaps," he had his own idea, "If we sit and you allow me to answer your questions."

My mouth open again as I thought about his idea then I said, "Okay." I nodded, agreed with his idea.

"Then follow me." He said then turned for the room to his right.

"Okay then," I said and finally pried my hooker heels from the hardwood floor. At first my legs were a tad unsteady but gradually their feeling came back. I carefully walked behind him with that Billy chick behind me. Yep, I wasn't blind! My eyes were directly aimed at his butt. I recognized that butt! That butt also was a perfect replica of the hiney from Fright Night. I had a little stripper tune playing in my head in rhythm to the motion of his rear's motion; the same tune I'd go singing during the scene of Jerry Dandridge's descent down the grand staircase. He stopped and I almost stumbled on my own feet. My eyes quickly darted up. Nope, I was not checking out your ass; I smiled innocently. He lifted an arm and offered me to take a seat on this antique looking sofa that went with the house's age. I bowed my head with thanks and carefully scooted myself around him then slowly sat my rear down, crossed my legs, then set the laptop down beside me. I held my awkward smile watching him take a seat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. I again puckered my lips in thought; looked around the room mostly made of windows and noticed the fence outside that separated the property from the funeral home. Wow, I lived that close.

"So, ask me a question." He broke the silence; sitting relaxed in the chair with his elbows propped against the chair arms and hands folded near his abdomen.

"Okie-dokie," I spoke up then removed the laptop from its bag and set it on the coffee table. I did my homework. I wrote out a list of questions. I really didn't think I would truly be asking any of them but now I was. I brought up the file and scanned the questions. Some were pretty normal and others were sorta rude, poking fun at his mental state. "Well," I scanned the list of questions then pulled my eyes from the screen and looked over at him, "Okay, if you are who you say you are then why are you in front of me. Jerry Dandridge died at the end of Fright Night."

"Do you believe everything you see in movies?" he answered with a question.

"No, I don't that's sorta why I'm here, isn't it?" I asked him in return, "I don't believe you're who the character in Fright Night is based off of. That's why you wanted to meet me. Which is another question. Why the hell would you, if you are him, want to reveal yourself to me? Ain't that what almost got the character Charley Brewster killed? And why the hell me? I'm no one special. You're average woman still living in her past writing fan fiction; yes, fiction." I was truly curious to how he was gonna answer all these questions.

"I've read in some of your fiction," he began to speak; I watched those damned lips like a freaking hawk, "That all fiction or myths are based on some sort of fact. Wouldn't it be conceivable that perhaps your Jerry Dandridge was based on fact?"

"Jerry Dandridge was a vampire." I spoke up, "Vampire are myths but originally based from the story of Vlad Tepes or Vlad the Impaler. Dracula, in other words, created by Bram Stoker from the warlord's life and the myths after his death. So, are you perhaps Dracula?" I pressed my lips together and questioned him with my eyes and lifted brows.

"No," his brows frowned.

"Okay," I clapped my hands together, "So, you aren't Dracula. But you are a vampire that Jerry Dandridge was based from. So, how did Tom Holland manage to write a whole script based around you? And how in the hell is it that the actor who portrayed you looks just like you? That's just a little unbelievable."

"Yes, he looks just like me, well, then," he agreed, "As for Tom Holland, let's put it this way; he needed something to get himself in the director's chair and it was my story that got him there."

"That doesn't answer my damned question." I grimaced, "How did he know about you?"

"Well, the whole Fright Night story, all his idea." He answered though I was still not getting a straight answer, "But the character Jerry Dandridge, well, all me. I insisted that he approach Chris Sarandon to portray me since we looked so much alike." So much? Was he kidding? Um, just alike was more like it. "There was an incident a long time ago, sometime around 1960 that was similar to the one portrayed in the movie. With a little research Tom found that little story written in a small town newspaper where a family of three was found murdered." I hated when he just said that word, "The rumors about the town said the survivor believed his family were vampires, turned by his next door neighbor," he lifted his hands gesturing himself, "Well, they thought the boy was crazy, of course. So, the story was forgotten in time until Tom found it. When he found it, I found him. He won't admit to it but I basically gave him permission to use the idea of my story." Wow, I was looking at the real genius behind Fright Night…um, I don't think so! "So, when the movie was made, I was disappointed how it ended because in truth it didn't end that way. I am alive, in ways, and very well." He continued with his crazy story, well thought out, I gave him that much, "Now, the original script probably depicted me a bit more truthfully. It was all Chris Sarandon with the whole Amy Peterson situation. Oh, and the whole fruit thing, his idea too. We don't eat…we drink." He was creepy but cute.

"Okay," I spoke up, "Well, that doesn't clear up shit but thanks for shedding some light on all that." I shifted my eyes down to the laptop scanning more questions. What the hell? This was getting way too weird. "Okay, I gotta know," I blurted, "Why me? Really, it makes no sense to me that you would just randomly pick out me to share this with."

"You truly think so little of yourself?" he asked giving me that 'poor thing' look, "I enjoyed much of what you've written. Sure you really get into the whole lovelorn idea from the movie which I found sweet but you truly have a strange understanding in how to portray Jerry Dandridge. I was truly impressed with two of your stories. Jacked which I couldn't stop laughing when I read it. And you're recent depiction which you make Charley into a girl. You gave me a happy ending in that one. It was refreshing that someone would go out of their way to create something that gives the so called bad guy a happy ending! I thank you for that." He gave an approving nod.

"You're welcome, I guess." I didn't really know how to respond to any of it, "So because you liked my shit writing you thought, 'hey I'm gonna bug the shit out of her until she agrees to meet with me so I can go blabbing that I'm a vampire which most people usually die with that sorta information'. Something like that." He suddenly laughed which made me frown.

"You truly crack me up." He controlled his laughter, "You have a wonderful sense of humor."

"Um, thanks," I basically said it like a question.

"No, thank you for making me laugh." He said with that gorgeous smile, "Since I've started reading your stories I've laughed quite a bit. Some of the characters you've created are simply hilarious."

"Well, I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself." I sorta rolled my eyes, "So, you have no problem that I know your secret?"

"No," he simply said, "No one would believe you so I'm not worried."

"Well, that makes me feel good." I didn't feel good, nope, "Okay, I have no idea what else to ask you."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"I really don't know what you're expecting from me." I confessed, "Yes, you got just about every detail down pact. You have the looks," I lifted one finger, "You have the voice," I lifted a second finger, "You have the mannerisms," I lifted a third finger, "But where is the real proof?"

"And what proof might that be?" he asked; I really didn't want that kind of proof.

"Show me something maybe you have in writing with Tom Holland." I belted out whatever I could think of, "Show me something from your past; like a photograph of you before you became you or a painting. Just throw me a freaking bone!" He threw me a freaking bone alright. I sat there staring at him, waiting for anything. His eyes focused on me and right then I was given a huge kick in my imaginary balls; a bitch slap across my tits; a giant kick in my ass; a punch in my face! I froze, just sat there watching him give me the proof I asked for. Just like that, like the snap of someone who could snap their fingers, those dark brown eyes became something out of Fright Night. His lovely eyeballs became lovely vampire eyeballs. His eyes were now scary as freaking hell all creepy red. "So," my voice was a little high pitched, "You, um, inspired that too." My eyes went wide and I looked away. Oh my freaking God in heaven! Where was an adult diaper when you needed one? Yeah, I felt the urge to wet myself. I really fought to not piss my undies. "Well, there goes that theory out the fucking window." I spoke aloud slowly reaching my hands to the laptop and slowly closed it, "Hmm, now I'm gonna not wanna walk outside at night when the moon is full because werewolves might be out there." I couldn't stop the shit from pouring outta my mouth! I slowly lifted the laptop off the table and inched it into the bag. "Hey, I think I'll never watch Fright Night again!" I almost whined; my favorite movie completely gone to the shitter, "Yep, you ruined it for me! It's all comedies and dramas now."  
I really couldn't stand; my legs lost all blood flow the moment his eyeballs went all red. I set the bagged laptop on my numbed lap. "You aren't gonna read anything else from GaGa4FrightNight from this point on." I nodded without looking at him, "You're gonna have to find someone else to do this to because I'm totally weaned off vampires. I just found my cure for my Fright Night addiction." It was truly a sad thing to say. I loved Fright Night and now this gorgeous fuck face destroyed it for me! "You had to go and ruin it." I shook my head, "Everything I've written, bullshit. Everything I've loved about it, bullshit. You couldn't just stay put and continue being a fictional piece of art. Nope, you had to come out to me and just burn it all to the ground!" I was devastated; my life's works flushed down the toilet. "Why couldn't you be just some lunatic?" I snapped, frustrated about the whole damned thing, "A fucking hot looking lunatic? I don't get it. I just don't get it. Why?"

"I'm sorry." He said which didn't help!

"Oh, sure," I shook my head in disbelief, "What? Why? Oh, sure my family is going to love that Fright Night is off my all time favorites list." I slapped my hand against my forehead, "No more series. No more short stories. No more drawings. Oh, they are gonna love it! And, hey, don't have to spend money now to meet Chris Sarandon." I laughed almost insanely, "Nope, I don't need to meet him now that I met you. Who needs to meet the actor when you actually met the character?!" I continued to laugh almost hysterically trying to fight back the mournful tears of the demise of my love for Fright Night. I slouched back against the sofa, flung my arms up in defeat slamming my hands down against the laptop. "You are such a fucking asshole!" I grumbled at him, "A damned good looking fucking asshole but an asshole nonetheless!" I crossed my arms over my chest, blocking out the battle of two Jerry's, "Yep, hope you're happy, fuck-tard! You just made my world go 'poof' like you did in the movie! Up in smoke with it all!" I tapped the heels of my boots against the floor shaking my legs in frustration, "Wow, just fucking wow! Hey, dreams do come true! Fuck that!" I puckered my lips with frustration, "You need to go back where you came from, that's all. Yeah, back into the pages of fiction is where you're cute ass belongs!"

"I made a huge mistake." He finally spoke; damn right he did! Ruined my damn screwed up world. Fright Night was my best friend in high school. Jerry Dandridge was perfect the way he was, now he's not. Chris Sarandon was my heart throb but now my heart was broken by this dickheads need to reveal that he was real. I refused to look at the jerk. I didn't even realize he got up outta his chair. "I'm truly sorry," I heard him say but it didn't make things any better. He fucking burned my erected shrine to Fright Night to the fucking ground; douche bag! What the hell as I gonna do now? I enjoyed my Fright Night stuff! My eyes finally noticed him and he stood right in front of me between the sofa and coffee table. I looked up at him with burning hatred.

"I really don't like you." I grumbled with my eyes glaring up at him.

"That I cannot have." He said; made no fucking sense to me because it was too late, "I want you continue what you've been doing. You do me justice and that I appreciate and the only way I can show appreciation is by making sure it is as if this never happened."

"Good luck with that, you shit!" I snapped up at him.

"No," he gave me a flash of that lovely smile I used to adore but now mocked the shit out of me, "Good luck to you, GaGa4FrightNight, with keeping up my good name."

"Well, that ain't gonna happen." I laughed; it all went buh-bye, all gone with the wind.

"Oh, I'm certain it will." He sounded really confident.

I looked up at him with a frown, "Huh?" I mumbled with confusion, "What the fuck are you…"

And that was that. I woke up on the couch in the living room. My hubby and brat had just come walking into the house. I was confused. I wasn't dressed like a 80s street walker. I was in my pajamas on the couch with all the damned cats staring at me as if they knew something I didn't. I couldn't stop frowning. Was it all just a dream? Did I dream it all? My head was a tad bit jumbled but I swear it was a really real dream! I rubbed my head as the brat came bouncing into the living room. I looked at her and she just frowned at me and said, "What?" I shook my head, "Nothing." She always asked them when I wasn't even looking at her. The hubby entered the living room with a 'hi, baby doll' and stepped up to giving me a kiss. "Have a nap?" he asked and I just nodded. Did I just have a nap? Wow, what the hell? I sat back against the couch trying to get my head together.

Well, I guess now is a good time as any to go write me some Fright Night fan fiction and it's gonna be about me.

_(Author)_

_Okay, how lame was this? OMG! I am just such a freaking nut job! Really, that was just me having some stupid fun; 11 pages of stupid fun. Don't worry, I ain't that crazy! I'm crazy but not cray-cray! I can't wait to see if I get meet Chris Sarandon! I feel sorry for him if I do…no not because I'm a freaking lunatic… because I'm gonna revert to my teen self and go all giggly! I probably won't have the nads to ask for a picture while on his lap…even if I request it he'd probably say 'go away' then I would have to walk away crying. We'll see what happens. Hey, you think he would accept my What if Charley was a Girl story as a gift from an admirer? I would just love to give it to him as a show of how great of an actor I believe him to be and how much I appreciate him giving life to the real Jerry Dandridge! No, I won't give him this one because, please, I don't want to scare the hell outta him… he just needs to go to Facebook and find that creepy page and he'll be scare shitless! Well, hope you got some kicks outta this… What my mind comes up with! I scare myself a lot of the times! LOL Until next time… keep on dreaming!_

_Loves,_

_~GaGa4FrightNight~_


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